Regency Wolfe: A de Wolfe Pack Connected World collection of Victorian and Regency Tales

by Mary Lancaster

  “Yeah, sure ye are. We’re all workin’ against our will, ain’t we?” The blonde girl tugged on Alice’s sleeve. “I wouldn’t be trustin’ her as far as I could toss her.”

  “Me neither.” The other one agreed. “Ye know what the Widow Marcel says.”

  The two older girls looked at each other and said in unison, “If’n it sounds too good to be true, it likely is.”

  Alice scowled in disappointment. “I suppose ye’re right. Though I ain’t bad with a needle and thread.” A far off look came into her eyes as if she could see herself living a different life than the one she had.

  Lettie recognized that look. She’d seen in it the mirror more times than she could count. It urged her on, making her even more determined to convince Alice she could have a better life. This was her chance to make a difference, and she wasn’t about to let it slip through her fingers. “Alice, I’m speaking the truth.” Lettie smiled at the girl as she reached out to smooth the collar of her smocked dress. “I have a valid opportunity. Allow me to explain.”

  Nathaniel Hawke, unwillingly retired captain of Her Majesty’s Royal Navy, couldn’t believe his eyes. Considering all he’d witnessed during the Indian Rebellion, the Second Opium War and his military service afterward, that was a considerable feat.

  Yet no matter how hard he stared at the cloaked figure speaking with several girls near the end of the bridge, it didn’t change what was happening. A well-to-do woman was accosting several young girls who’d crossed the bridge, leaving their factory jobs for a quick meal before returning to work. She was about to ruin an entire week’s worth of reconnaissance.

  He’d positioned himself in the deep doorway of a shop several doors down from the bridge entrance. His attire was something his butler had reluctantly procured for him when he’d decided upon this mission a week ago. The roughly woven, tweed jacket had seen better days as had the brown trousers, but they served the purpose of allowing him to better blend into the street. He’d hoped to identify the men said to be luring girls from their factory jobs with the promise of higher and easier wages as a housemaid, only to put them on ships to be sold as slaves and prostitutes in faraway lands or to serve in London brothels.

  Instead, a lady, by the fitted cut of her cloak, was drawing far too much attention by attempting to speak to the young women crossing the bridge. What on earth was she about? If one of the men he was trying to find observed her, she would be in grave danger. She might very well find herself on board a ship alongside the girls to whom she was speaking.

  Nathaniel waited several precious moments, hoping the woman would proceed on her way. But no. She continued to speak earnestly with the girls. Several more stopped to listen to the conversation.

  That was the last straw. The crazed woman was ruining his chances of identifying the men running this operation, which would allow him to save the girls. Now he’d have to take the risk of revealing himself in order to force her to move along before something terrible occurred.

  As he stepped out of the doorway, cane in hand, he once again cursed the damaged leg that caused him to limp. It was the reason he’d been driven from his previous life where he’d made a difference. Its constant ache was an unwelcome reminder that he could no longer protect his men, that he was no longer needed.

  He thrust aside the dark thoughts as he tried to decide how to play this particular mission. He’d been forced to disguise himself on various operations during his military career, so while this was nothing new to him, he didn’t care to do draw attention to himself in a place to which he wanted to return. Blast the woman.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Nathaniel caught sight of a man strolling toward the bridge. With his bowler hat and better-than-most attire, he might very well be one of those Nathaniel had been watching for. Double blast.

  Nathaniel had nearly reached the woman. Her face was hidden by a fawn-colored bonnet with a ridiculous bow on the side of it. He took an immediate dislike to the ugly thing.

  “Excuse me,” he said, with a slight bow to the group. “May I have a word with ye, miss?” He did his best to disguise his accent, not wanting to display his Cambridge education.

  The woman turned in surprise as the side of her bonnet had blocked his approach. For some reason, he was stunned by how attractive she was. Large hazel eyes framed by dark blonde lashes and brows regarded him suspiciously. Her alabaster complexion was flawless with the exception of a tiny dent in her chin. “No, thank you.” Her tone was polite but firm before she turned back to the girls.

  “Beggin’ yer pardon, but I must insist.” Her refusal made it difficult to hide his irritation. His position as an officer for so many years meant no one refused his orders. At least until now.

  She glanced at him again, brow furrowed. Then she looked back at her audience. “Do any of you know this man?”

  “No,” they all agreed as they stared at Nathaniel. They seemed to be waiting to see what might happen next.

  “There’s no loiterin’ in this area,” he persisted. “Ye need to be movin’ along.” He gestured with his hand, hoping the girls would continue on their way so he might have a moment with the woman to explain the danger in which she’d placed herself.

  The older girls tugged on the younger one’s sleeve. “Come along with ye, Alice. This don’t concern us.”

  “Wait,” the woman said, sparing a moment to glare yet again at Nathaniel. “If you’re truly interested, here’s the card of the shop I mentioned.”

  Alice reached out a cautious hand to take it, staring at it as though it might contain a hidden message. “I don’t know…”

  “Think upon it. That’s all—”

  Nathaniel snatched the card from the girl’s hand to read it. Madame Daphne. Seamstress. “What is it ye’re askin’ these girls to do?” he asked, allowing suspicion to color his tone.

  “None of your business. Please continue on your way.” The woman seized the card from him then made a shooing motion. As if that would have any effect on him.

  “Ye’re causin’ trouble for these poor girls,” he said and turned to glare at them, hoping it would work better on them than it had on the woman. “Why don’t ye leave them in peace?”

  “We must be goin’.” The girls eased back, pulling Alice with them, but not before she took the card from the lady once more.

  “Wait. Please,” the woman bid them. “I only want to help.”

  With one last glance over their shoulders, the girls hurried down the street as though anxious to put more distance between themselves and the woman.

  Nathaniel breathed a sigh of relief. Now he need only get her to do the same. Perhaps his vigil wouldn’t be wasted after all. He couldn’t lose this chance to identify the men involved in the terrible scheme. “If you would—”

  “How dare you.” The anger in the woman’s tone surprised him as did the passion that flared in her eyes. But it didn’t sway him from his purpose.

  He leaned close, intending to intimidate her, dropping his East End accent. “Do you have any notion of the danger you’re in at this very moment?”

  Her eyes widened in disbelief. Whether it was at the change in his intonation or his words, he didn’t know. Nor did it matter. She opened her mouth, most likely to defend herself, but he was in no mood to listen.

  “This is not the place for you.” He glanced at the overly large bow on the side of her bonnet, uncertain why the damned thing irritated him so. “You would be better served on Regent Street.” He took her elbow, intending to turn her in that general direction, but to no avail.

  “Who are you to think you have any right to speak to me so? I will not be dragged about by—”

  Movement from the side of his vision caught Nathaniel’s attention. The man he’d noted earlier drew nearer, a scowl twisting his lips that concerned Nathaniel. “We are about to be approached by an undesirable character,” Nathaniel whispered. “I would suggest you do as I say and walk quickly.”

  The woman’s gaze
landed on the approaching man, and Nathaniel’s meaning seemed to sink in. Apparently she didn’t care for the look of him either, for she stopped fighting Nathaniel’s attempt to move her and complied.

  “Thank you,” Nathaniel whispered as he escorted her, doing his best to modify his limp to more of a glide, not wanting her to notice it. “I have no desire to brawl on the street today.”

  “Who is he? Why was he approaching us?” she asked, sparing a glance over her shoulder, but it appeared her bonnet prevented her from seeing anything.

  “I believe our presence is interfering with his business.” He could feel the weight of her gaze as he glanced around warily for any additional associates the man might have lurking about.

  “Who are you?”

  “I’ll explain once you’re safely away.” He walked with purpose, hoping not to draw more notice.

  “I’m not going anywhere with you.” The stubbornness in her voice irritated him though she had yet to wrest her elbow from him.

  He didn’t want her to stop now that they were nearly out of danger. “I promise to enlighten you once we’re out of sight of the man who is following us. Don’t look,” he ordered when she started to turn back.

  Perhaps she’d cooperate if he shifted her thoughts toward another topic. “Where is your carriage?”

  She sighed. “A short distance from here.”

  He took a misstep. “You came here unaccompanied?”

  “My maid and footman aren’t far.” At his questioning look, she named the bookstore where they waited.

  “That is a fair distance from here.” And his leg already ached like a bad tooth. He’d spent another restless night walking more than he should’ve. No doubt that added to the stiffness in his thigh. Why had this woman ventured all this way by herself?

  “Who are you? And this time, I expect an answer.” She gave him a stern look, and for a moment, he wondered if she was a governess or the like.

  “Nathaniel Hawke.” He decided against sharing more. After all, his brother was an earl and had no idea of Nathaniel’s activities. He’d prefer to keep it that way. He well knew Tristan wouldn’t approve.

  “Well, Mr. Hawke, please advise why you felt the need to interrupt my conversation with those girls.”

  “First, tell me what your purpose here is.” He was curious at the very least. And her answer would help guide him as to how much, if anything, he told her of his own mission. It had started several months ago and come at the perfect time, prying him out of the spiral of hopelessness gripping him after his forced retirement. The sense of purpose that now filled him was a reason to rise each morning and beat back the despair his empty and pointless future had threatened.

  “I intended to aid one of London’s many neglected children.”

  “By giving them the card of your dressmaker?”

  “I understand factory jobs are less than desirable. Giving them money seemed too great a risk.” Something in her tone implied she’d given the matter considerable thought.

  “Sometimes it takes more than money to truly make a difference.” He said the words quietly, wondering if she understood that. So few of the well-to-do did. His brother, for example.

  They turned the corner of another street, and he paused to look back. There was no sight of the man who’d been following them. But that didn’t mean they were out of harm’s way.

  He glanced in the opposite direction, spying his carriage. At his nod, it pulled toward them. “May I offer you a ride to your carriage?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “I’m afraid I must insist.” He’d be damned if he’d risk her returning to the bridge where harm might befall her.

  “You’ve ruined enough of my day already. I shall return of my own accord.”

  “I can’t allow that,” he said, taking her elbow to make certain she didn’t attempt an escape. “I’ll escort you. For your safety.”

  At last, she looked up at him fully, her bonnet now serving to frame her heart-shaped face. That tiny dent in her chin appealed to him in the oddest way, as did her large eyes and long lashes. Eyes that were hazel. Or rather green. No, definitely hazel. Except for the inner ring of green. Perhaps hazel with gold flecks and a green ring would better describe—

  He stopped short. What on earth was he doing? Since when did a captain in Her Majesty’s Royal Navy wax on about a woman’s eyes?

  When they studied him with curiosity like she expected him to…well, he didn’t know what she expected. Nor did he care to find out.

  Those full lips the color of a deep pink rose that begged to be kissed couldn’t be explored either.

  “What is your name?” he asked gruffly. He shouldn’t have asked yet found himself holding his breath, awaiting her answer.

  “I—” She dropped her gaze for a moment, the sweep of her lashes doing odd things to his chest. Those lashes lifted, and he was struck anew by her amazing eyes. “I shan’t tell you.”

  Once again, she’d refused him. After commanding so many men over the years, he was used to being obeyed instantly. Yet he had no hold over this woman, nor could he force her to do anything.

  He shook his head. It was best she didn’t tell him. He’d rather not have a name to put to her arresting face. After all, he would never see her again.

  “Please accept my offer to drive you to your carriage.” That was as close to a request as he could manage. “These streets are perilous. Even in the middle of the day.”

  He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d correctly guessed that she’d thought herself safe here at this time, for she opened those lush lips as though to argue, only to firmly close them again. He studied her brows, trying to guess what color her hair might be. No hint of it was visible beneath the ugly bonnet.

  “How do I know you’re safe?”

  Her quiet question took him aback. In truth, he wasn’t. Far from it. It was good that she’d inadvertently reminded him of that.

  “I’m a better alternative than walking these streets alone.” That he could say with complete honesty. “I give you my word as a gentleman.”

  She pondered his response then nodded. “Very well.” With a wary glance at his footman, she stepped up into the carriage as Nathaniel held open the door.

  He advised his driver of their destination then took a seat beside her as she adjusted her skirts on the bench seat. It was such a feminine gesture, that adjusting of her skirts. After spending the majority of his time with men the past decade, the simple movements of women fascinated him. Her hands, encased in gloves that had the unfortunate aspect of matching her bonnet, were quite graceful in their movements as she drew her dark brown cloak over her fawn gown.

  He didn’t realize that was such a popular color in fashion these days. He preferred the brighter, more vivid colors he’d encountered in his travels, especially in India.

  Damn. What on earth was the matter with him? Why had he even looked twice at her clothes? He could only blame his behavior on the lack of women in his life for so many years. They were foreign creatures to him. Though many men in his position had mistresses, he’d avoided such commitments, unwilling to allow himself such an indulgence. Nor had he been overly tempted by a woman to bother. He pulled his thoughts back to the problem at hand.

  “Don’t return to this area,” he warned. “There are far too many undesirable characters lurking about.”

  She looked up at him as the carriage eased forward, the horses’ hooves clopping along the street. “Yet those girls walk there every day unaccompanied.”

  “True, but they are more capable of defending themselves than you.”

  “What were you doing at the bridge?”

  “Merely admiring the architecture of it. The five wrought iron arches are quite impressive. The ends of the bridge resemble pulpits just as I was told.” He glanced out the window, hoping they’d nearly reached their destination.

  “Liar.” The word was said without any heated inflection. Just a mere statement of fact. />
  He couldn’t help but turn to look at her, shocked she’d say such a thing. The dim interior of the enclosed carriage created a cozy, private atmosphere that made him think of inappropriate things. Like how she might feel in his arms. How her lips might taste beneath his. What she might look like without the damned bonnet.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” he said, forcing himself to look once more out the window, confused why this woman was such a temptation to him.

  “Your accent doesn’t match your clothes. I don’t understand what a man like you would be doing near the bridge.”

  “I fear it is a rather long, boring story, and we have nearly arrived at our destination.” He smiled to ease his rather terse explanation. “Do not return to that area under any circumstances.”

  “You have no say over me, Mr. Hawke.”

  “What would your father say if he knew where you had spent the luncheon hour?”

  She gasped. “Are you threatening me?”

  “No. I am trying to keep you safe.”

  “You don’t know my name. Besides, I am old enough to see to my own safety.”

  “And you obviously are quite good at it, since you are now riding in a carriage with a stranger un-chaperoned. Do you have any idea what happens to nice ladies such as yourself in situations like this?” He leaned closer, hoping his presence was enough to frighten her into avoiding such trips in the future.

  Her chin went up a notch as she met his gaze. With his next indrawn breath, her sweet scent that held a hint of orchids filled his senses. He’d grown fond of their heady fragrance during his time in India. Why couldn’t she have smelled of roses or something normal like other English misses?

  “Nothing untoward ever happens to me.” She said the words with the utmost confidence. Yet they held an underlying hint of something he couldn’t identify. Was it regret?

  His gaze dropped to her lips. He could tell the moment awareness of the danger she was in struck her, for she gave a tiny gasp. The pulse just visible at the base of her throat sped. His gaze caught on the dent in her chin before he stared into her eyes once more, telling himself he needed to back away before doing something he’d regret.